


Happy Returns

by sharkie



Series: Amelia and Victoria’s London [4]
Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-04 16:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17307710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie/pseuds/sharkie
Summary: The Withered Vagabond has a new hobby.





	Happy Returns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ImprobableIntellect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImprobableIntellect/gifts).



> Callista is the Withered Vagabond from _Steeped in Honey_ , but knowledge of that Exceptional Story isn't required.

Another night, another ‘seduction’.

The temperature of the naturally-warm room had spiked to steamy. Victoria’s white coat lay on the floor, beside her scanty dress. She stood proud at the centre of the stage, looming over the body of her increasingly naked client, spirifer’s fork in hand. An amber dildoe jutted from the straps that met at the thong that practically left her crotch exposed. The toy was new. She looked forward to trying it out.

Before descending, she paused to preen at the spellbound crowd - and frowned at who she saw seated in a wheeled chair at the far corner.

The troublesome guest appeared to be alone, as always. Her expression was inscrutable. Victoria had checked the ledger after last week’s appearance:  _Callista Isadora Carter_. Her voluminous brown hair looked better each time they crossed paths, though that wasn’t saying much, considering its abysmal state at first. Her facial scars were fainter, especially in this dim lighting, but remained visible. And there was still a fogged quality to the human’s gaze, regardless of how intent it grew as Victoria straddled the woman.

But enough of that. Victoria could smell her client’s arousal, could already envision the moment of extraction. Though the client didn’t look very bright - her soul wouldn't be worth keeping. The viric trick tonight, Victoria decided. She reveled in the tension for a moment. Then she turned back to the crowd, and almost frowned at Callista’s lack of visible response.

Victoria did something rare. She paused.

Callista smiled slightly and inclined her head, indicating that Victoria should continue. Her eyes simmered dark with a hunger unmatched by any of the adoring crowd - nor by any other woman worth remembering.

The audience’s attention stayed glued to tonight’s woman mewling and writhing on the couch. They failed to notice Victoria’s near-imperceptible gulp as she held the fork aloft. Could devils blush? Well, she was about to find out.  

* * *

There are few advantages to amnesia. One may be the joy of rediscovering old stories. Callista Isadora did not experience this joy. She’d spent months recovering from her ordeal, gradually working her way through her overflowing bookshelves to pass the time. Most of the books had been well-thumbed, or bookmarked, or yellowed with age. Yet whatever love she’d had for such literature had faded into morbid curiosity. The prose flowed well, the writing was beyond competent - she had simply lost her desire to see fiction turned into reality.

When she had finally been allowed outside, Callista had immediately searched for Victoria’s Salon. The old Callista had been a sharp girl who only indulged in sweeping romances. She saved her dangerous impulses for her books; the sole exception had been her ill-fated relationship with the man who had betrayed her. But her unlikely saviour had exuded mystery and excitement with each breath. Inhumanly exotic, Victoria oozed the power and near-oppressive control that Callista had once avoided. Wariness and propriety hadn't saved Callista before. What use did she have for them now?

Resolved, Callista had attended two more extractions - the ‘seductions’ - with awe and unexpectedly strong interest. The price was steep, but worthwhile. Besides, it wasn’t as steep as what the _clients_ paid. 

Currently, the deviless was straddling the woman on the chaise, rubbing a tapered amber dildoe along her folds. She fucked into the human in short thrusts punctuated with deliberately girlish giggles, drawing gasps from both the client and most of the audience, save for Callista. When the toy bottomed out, an anticipatory silence descended upon everyone except the squirming woman. Victoria stilled her legs. Only her hips snapped forward. Callista coughed and shifted in her chair; she winced slightly as she slung one leg over the other to quell the ache between her thighs.  

Callista still suffered from the aftereffects of having Red Honey extracted from her memories. Her mind had regained most of its sharpness, but had fragmented, perhaps forever. In particular, it was hard for her to focus while reading. According to her servants, she had once torn through thick novels within days. Now, on bad days, it could take ages just to absorb a paragraph. But these extractions brought a clarity that she struggled to find elsewhere.

Onstage, the noises were growing louder and louder, an unmistakable wetness underscoring moans and Victoria’s breathy commands for the human to show her pleasure on her face. Callista pressed her thighs together. Her body tingled from the waist-down; it was impossible to pinpoint where the heat had started, only that it burned inside, hotter as Victoria pinned the woman in place while snarling and rolling her hips forward in unrelenting waves.

The woman’s expression contorted in agonised bliss. Out came the fork, meeting the human’s wrist mid-thrust. The woman twitched, her soul departing at the same time as her senses. Her thrashing set Victoria off, as well; she informed the crowd with a growl and intentionally lost her pace, digging her violant-painted nails into the woman's flesh. As Victoria neared another orgasm, she turned to bask in the audience’s attention - and her gaze automatically landed on Callista’s.  

The moans petered into infrequent whimpers. The crowd buzzed, wondering whether the game would continue. Before the woman could react, Victoria was draping herself over her client. She swept a viric-dyed streak of hair over the woman’s eyes. The woman instantly went limp as she fell unconscious. Victoria caught her breath - or acted like it, exposing more of her magnificent body as she stood and stretched, candlelight glinting off her piercings. She spared just one glance for the client in a deep sleep before announcing that the show was over.

Callista settled back into her seat, a small smile tugging at a corner of her lips. This was better than a book. It was easier to read.

* * *

Victoria emerged from the parlour glowing, sated from orgasm and the satisfaction of payment for impeccable performance. A new soul lay bottled and corked on the table in the extraction room; Maxwell and Horace the Heptagoat stood guard by the slumbering client. The amber dildoe had been taken away for cleaning, and would shortly be delivered to her dressing room. All was as it should be. Except...

Behind her, the crowd’s chattering faded into a distant murmur. The empty hallway to her dressing room offered no comfort, but she couldn't hear any telltale sound of wheels. She absentmindedly tugged at the sleeves of her coat, itchy with a sense of expectation. An unfamiliar feeling stirred low in Victoria’s (artificial) stomach. She recalled the eyes, the encouraging smile. Dread? Was this dread?

Victoria entered, shut the door and turned, eager for the comfort of her second-favourite chaise - and _she_ was there. Again. Callista Isadora Carter’s gaze lingered over their reflections in the mirror. Victoria had always hated mirrors - she hated the sight of herself - but with Callista included, it was simultaneously a relief and more confusing. As Callista faced Victoria, the grin on her face elevated her presence from merely annoying to mildly threatening, not that Victoria would admit it. Callista's wheeled chair was nowhere in sight, but her cane rested against a nearby wall.

“You _cannot_ keep doing this,” said Victoria. She ran a hand through her mussed hair in sheer frustration. “Once or twice, perhaps, but thrice? Don’t you have a life to recover so you can set about ruining it again?”

“Maybe.” The human clutched her cane as she took a step closer, slyly or shyly, Victoria didn’t know nor care. “Do you have any ideas?”

“I don’t want your grimy soul, little girl. Try Berthus.”

“I just wanted to see you.”

“You just saw me,” snapped Victoria.

“And talk to you,” the human continued, too earnest to be truly oblivious, “I’ve been so _bored._ My books offer no joy; the Unfortunates are dear to me, but uncomfortable...”  

Victoria’s dark chuckle would stir dread in someone else. “Every day, I operate with warrens of humans pawing at me, clamouring for my attention. They dare not wish for my affection.” Her golden eyes flashed. “Who do you think you are?”

Unexpectedly, Callista dipped her head. “I don’t know,” she answered, quietly.

Victoria expected tears. She expected an excuse along the lines of, _I was hoping you could tell me,_ an obvious opening to another, more conventional seduction. She wasn’t expecting the human’s slim hands on her hips. Callista’s grip was still weak from nerve damage - Victoria could’ve easily pried her fingers off, guided them somewhere more interesting until she alone was satisfied, then ejected the human for her insolence. But there was an innocent fondness to Callista’s touch that gave her pause. And that pause proved to be her undoing.

Callista pulled Victoria's body flush against hers, and Victoria parted her lips for the kiss, accepting it with a moan at odds with her projected hostility. Callista’s eyes stayed open as she traced the inside of the deviless’ mouth and down her forked tongue, gaze flickering with familiarity with each lap over the piercing. When Victoria tried to invade the human’s mouth in turn, she met resistance; instead of eventually relenting, Callista withdrew entirely with a giddy laugh.

Whatever Victoria chose to do next would be a concession of some sort. Callista had had enough experience with certain Unfortunates to recognise the expression of pride rapidly losing to precious opportunity. She waited, not bothering to conceal her excitement. And she didn’t worry about rejection. If her presence was truly unwanted, Victoria could easily have her removed, or locked the room in the first place.

Victoria sighed and perched on the chaise, her bare, long legs on full display as she shifted and beckoned for Callista to approach. Her gaze pointedly lingered on Callista’s walking stick. It didn't affect Callista - she closed the distance between them in a few determined steps, forgetting the jabs of pain. She sat by Victoria’s feet and rested a hand on her thigh, unmoving, until Victoria hissed in impatience.

Callista’s fingers crept forward in languid, small strokes. Victoria was so accustomed to control that she found _seconds_ of waiting to be unbearable. She was incapable of begging or asking nicely, but her body spoke for her, thighs trembling, hips canting in search of greater contact. Callista whisked her hand away before Victoria could grab her wrist; she smiled and fussed with her own hair and collar while Victoria watched with narrowed eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” said Callista. “My hair is a disaster.”

Clients rarely spoke during a seduction; even if they dared towards the start, they were soon silenced. At first, she had assumed that Victoria wished it, but she was beginning to suspect that they were simply intoxicated by her presence. Sometimes, Victoria demanded words from her clients. Callista had been too preoccupied during their previous meetings to provide many, but perhaps Victoria would prefer more. It was worth exploring tonight.

Victoria hadn’t fully redressed following the seduction. It took no time for Callista to push her white coat off her shoulders. For a moment, she stared at the sheer bra underneath, still sticking to Victoria’s skin from earlier sweat. Victoria’s hardened nipples were very, very visible, made all the more prominent by those fascinating barbell-shaped piercings. More than once, more and more each night, Callista had wondered what function her undergarments served if they didn't actually cover the important things, even after a seduction. Somehow, Victoria's state of near-undress was more exciting than the prospect of seeing Victoria naked - although she was looking forward to that, as well.

With trembling fingers, she peeled Victoria’s thong down her legs, ducking away from her attempt to wind her fingers into Callista’s hair. She didn’t look up until the thong had landed on the floor. When she did, she couldn’t help breaking into a broad grin at the sight of Victoria’s exposed cunt.

“If you admire it so much,” Victoria sneered, “commission a portrait.”  

“I could,” Callista said. “You flaunt it almost every night, don’t you? They could probably finish within a week.”

Victoria glowered as the human threw her head back and laughed without malice; her glare seamlessly morphed into a heated gaze as Callista unbuttoned her own blouse and pulled it over her head, her loose chemise askance. Her skirt followed. She settled between Victoria’s calves, running her hands along the smooth flesh - stopping short of her thighs. It was nice just to touch. Also, to watch Victoria squirm the way that she made humans squirm.

The previous times they’d done this, Victoria had tried to treat it like a seduction. Callista was, after all, just another sexually repressed rich girl. An _amnesiac,_ too. Victoria hadn’t accounted for how she’d _forgotten her place_. Callista had laughed throughout sex, as she laughed now: a deep, honeyed sound. She’d beamed, and cooed, and shivered from arousal more than fear. The first time, she’d gaped at Victoria’s thumb circling her clit as if she hadn’t known it existed. Admittedly, her ignorance was possible, given her condition; but Victoria had said that she refused to believe it, since Callista had had little trouble returning the favour.

Callista adjusted her position so she was sprawled over the flat end of the chaise. Exhilaration overrode her muscles’ protests. One hand wrapped around Victoria’s bare ankle as Callista pressed her lips to her skin, lightly kissing up her leg and scooting forward until she was nestled by Victoria’s cunt. From her rediscovered books and limited interactions, Callista had gathered certain impressions about people in general. Humans were movable, stunnable, so easy to render vulnerable with meaningless words. Devils didn’t yield. This particular devil relished control and the act of _taking_ _,_ especially from the sort of woman who could afford a seduction. But, after the Red Honey, Callista didn’t have anything left to take. And it was in her nature to give, even in taking - her ordeal couldn’t change that.

She ran the flat of her tongue up a toned inner thigh. Then she bit Victoria. Victoria growled, her fingers instinctively tightening in Callista's hair. She granted Victoria one apologetic lick on the area where she’d bitten, then dove back into teasing. Callista swirled the flat of her tongue around the brass piercing over her pearl, humming in delight at the warmth and oddly sweet flavour until Victoria’s moans skirted suspiciously close to whines. She circled her clit without the wonderstruck, anxious haste of a Salon client, frequently pausing to nuzzle at Victoria’s thigh or lick moisture off her swollen lips. 

Callista lifted her head and smiled.

“Try not to come, Victoria,” she said. Her usage of the deviless’ name threatened to frost over the naturally sweltering room. “Not yet.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“I could leave, if you like,” Callista offered. She could tell that her sincerity only made her suggestion sting more. As she spoke, she began to unlace her own drawers; thanks to her vigourous movement, the straps of her chemise slid off her shoulders without fully exposing her breasts. She discarded her drawers, daintily laying them on the chaise near Victoria instead of depositing them onto the floor.

Victoria’s mouth clamped shut. Her annoyed huff was cut short by a moan as Callista’s fingertips stroked along her sopping folds. The initial press of her fingers made Victoria arch her back, clinging to the sides of the chaise, probably to avoid grabbing Callista. To Callista, her purposeful constraint just seemed more vulnerable. She couldn’t decide whether to reward it or encourage Victoria to inflict more upon herself. Speaking of which…

“I’ve been wondering, do you ever touch yourself?” asked Callista. “When you’re alone, I mean.” Anyway, she had barely seen Victoria do it onstage. She still wasn’t sure how devils’ anatomy worked; whether they could control their lust; whether Victoria’s career was a matter of preference or a type of necessity. She hoped that it was both.

Victoria stared for a moment, trying to determine why Callista needed to know - Callista suspected that she couldn’t grasp the concept of questions asked out of curiosity. Then Victoria shook her head.

“Why would I?” Not a real answer, but smugness had seeped back into Victoria’s voice. “I have all that I need.”

“But what do you _want?”_

“Your silence,” Victoria remarked drily.

Callista tsked and pushed two fingers further into Victoria’s burning cunt, her thumb smearing her saliva and Victoria’s slickness with a tenderness that would've been soothing in any other circumstance. Victoria's skin was familiar in construction but different in texture, softer and waxier than a human's anatomy - Callista doubted that she would ever tire of exploring it. Once she was hilted to the knuckles, she mimicked Victoria fucking tonight’s client with the dildoe, unhurriedly delving into her, pulling out to rub along her labia in firm strokes, pushing back in with a grunt and maintaining a steady rhythm. Their intermingled moans deepened the further that she ventured. Yet Callista didn’t crook her fingers, purposefully avoiding striking Victoria's core.

Victoria tried to thrust onto her fingers, to no avail, restrained by her own willpower. “You know where I want it,” she panted, eyes manic. “You _know,_ you incorrigible tease - ”

Callista’s fingers slid out with an audible squelch till only the tips remained. “Ah, ah. What do you say?”

 _Please. Please,_ Callista thought, a command and invocation, hearing the pounding of her own heart in her ears.

“Callista,” said Victoria. She shut her eyes in something approaching surrender. Reopening them, the ever-present fire had dimmed in the helplessness of desperation. Victoria reopened her mouth -   

The door opened, too. Neither of them had heard the knocking. In the doorway stood a Salon maid, blushing bright red, but making no apology nor move to leave. Once Callista recovered from the shock, the next thing she noticed was what the maid carried on a tray: the amber dildoe from earlier, still attached to its harness. 

“Hello, there,” said Callista, ignoring how Victoria glared daggers at her servant for interrupting and potentially overhearing her moment of vulnerability. “What's your name?”

The maid gulped. “Elsbeth, ma'am.”

“Could you come closer, Elsbeth?” Callista urged. 

Elsbeth took one look at Victoria, confirming that there would be no professional reprisal before complying. The maid was a pretty, young woman, as most Salon employees were; her outfit was nicer than a typical servant's in a human's employ, brighter and exposing more skin in flattering areas. Her face was heavily freckled and still flushed from surprise. However, something about the way she glanced at Victoria's body implied above-average familiarity, if not intimacy; the implication made Callista tingle and act on impulse. 

Callista pointed at the dildoe. “Put that on your mistress, if you please,” she instructed, in her most pleasant tone. “You're welcome to leave, but I imagine this is an opportunity you wouldn't wish to pass up. Comeuppance, perhaps?” 

“Callista-!” Victoria began to bolt upright, then flopped back dramatically.

Was that a spark of amusement in the girl's eyes? “Of course, ma'am.” 

Victoria glared, yet she obligingly lifted each foot to allow Elsbeth to slip the harness through, staying perfectly still as she clasped the buckles at her hips. Elsbeth's hand lingered mid-air afterwards, as if she considered giving her a parting smack. She wisely decided against it, and stepped back for Callista's inspection. 

“Thank you _very_ much.” Callista slipped an Echo or two to Elsbeth, not taking her eyes off the dildoe now jutting from Victoria's crotch. “Would you like Elsbeth to watch what happens next? Or is this a _private moment?”_ she asked, voice dripping with saccharine sarcasm. 

Elsbeth licked her lips. “I'll leave you to it, ma'am.” She dipped her head in deference and to hide her smile. “And Mistress Victoria.”

After months in Victoria's employment, Elsbeth had learned how to discreetly withdraw from delicate situations. The door shut behind her, followed by the click of a lock. How considerate. 

Victoria cupped the base of the dildoe with one hand, arching an eyebrow. “Do you expect me to fuck you?” she asked.

“I have a better idea.” Callista knocked Victoria's hand away and tutted. “Hands by your sides, or else.”

Victoria instantly obeyed. Her eyes widened as Callista straddled her and positioned her pussy over the dildoe, rubbing herself back and forth over the tip, easing herself into the solidity and merciless vibrations. Then she lowered herself with a hiss. Naturally, she couldn't sink all the way down in one go, but that worked to her advantage; Victoria had to endure the fluctuating pressure on her groin, the sliver of pleasure a taunt compared to the ecstasy that Callista fervently expressed through moans and full-body shudders. 

The stretch made Callista's eyes water from effort and overwhelmingly good sensation. She exhaled heavily with each stroke. Up, down, over and over again, the conscious concentration on her breathing fading in the face of Victoria's need. The moulded amber filled Callista with a satisfying burn, and it was warmer than her own hand on lonely nights - though not as warm as Victoria's flesh, or her mouth, or her cunt. Ah, well. Small sacrifices had to be made in order to see her in such a state of aroused anguish.

“What do you want?” Callista pressed.  

“Touch me,” Victoria breathed.

“Rather selfish, aren't you?”

“Or let me touch you,” Victoria added, greater desperation straining her voice.

“I think not,” said Callista. “Not after that frankly _shocking_ display of selfishness.”   

With that, Callista twisted her hips and gasped emphatically. Any self-consciousness had vanished. She couldn't quite see herself reflected in Victoria's eyes - the gold was practically opaque with desire - but in that lust-filled stare, Callista saw the depth of her own power, and the realisation tightened the knot of pleasure below her stomach.  

A whimper from Victoria, and the knot unravelled. Orgasm swelled, rolling over Callista in pulsating waves, and she moaned Victoria's name as she rode out every moment. But the spasms didn't end with the final flutter. Instead, it built again. Her thrusts grew more erratic with each subsequent paroxysm, each stronger than the last. Victoria tilted her hips upwards and thrust to meet Callista, gritting her teeth at Callista's triumphant laughter; her hands twitched, to grab Callista's hips, or to tend to herself, but a stern look put an end to her disobedience before it began.

“Damn it, you've had your fun!” cried Victoria. “Please, Callista, please!”

“All right,” said Callista. “Let's see if that tongue of yours can fuck better than your toys.” She beamed. “I'll even give you an advance on your reward. Since you've been so good.” 

Callista bit her lip as she pulled herself off the dildoe. It glistened even in the low lighting, from her arousal and repeated spending. She resisted the urge to rush through unstrapping the toy, savouring Victoria's impatience and laughing as she tossed the harness aside. Without preamble, she slid her fingers into the deviless, looked up, and smirked. 

Victoria wordlessly cried out as she clenched around Callista's merciless fingers and fucked herself onto them, gushing a substance thicker and more copious than what a human would produce. Callista kept coaxing more through crisis blurring into crisis as she murmured under her breath about temptation and revenge.

Finally, Victoria's body went lax. While she shuddered from the aftershocks, Callista straddled her chest, her arousal reignited by Victoria's reactions. The sudden pressure made Victoria gasp close to Callista's cunt, hot air raising goosebumps on her sensitized skin. Victoria's nails dug into Callista's hips as Callista lowered herself further, sharp but not enough to really hurt or bruise. Thankfully, Callista needn't worry about suffocating Victoria; she tried to set a gradually building pace, but Victoria gripped her hip and urged her to grind on her face. Devils could apparently contort their forked tongues in a multitude of ways, to say nothing of the flexibility of their jaws; the tongue piercing gently tickled Callista's cunt, adding a breathtaking frisson. 

“Don't stop,” panted Callista. Victoria's conflicted moan pushed her boldness into brazen. “Don't you _dare_ stop.” 

Indignant and obedient, Victoria doubled her efforts, her muffled encouragement a steady hum against Callista's slit. Callista's fingers dug into the fabric of the chaise as she rutted against the hot mouth nuzzling at her. It was easy for Victoria to slide a finger inside and stroke, each careful drag of her violant-coated nails leaving fiery trails that Callista would feel for days. Her cunt was wonderfully sore by the end of it, still pulsing with the promise of more. 

With some difficulty, Callista slid down the chaise and planted her hands on both sides of Victoria's head. Their mouths met in a brief but powerful clash of tongue and teeth. Callista pulled back, licking the taste of herself off her lips. Victoria lay immobile, looking...dazed? While she blinked at the ceiling, Callista kissed her again - softly at first, then escalating as if she’d forgotten that unlike Victoria, she actually did need air. For Callista, this was her greatest source of joy following everything she’d been through. For Victoria, too much time passed with too little carnal contact. It took effort for her to push Callista away - but Callista noted that the difficulty couldn’t be physical.

Callista carefully disentangled herself and stood, stretching. Countless orgasms had left her languid and distracted from any potential consequences; she was only jolted from the violant-induced residual bliss by Victoria shifting behind her.

“I’ll walk you out,” said Victoria, curtly, putting on her coat. Callista nodded and began to redress; she barely batted an eyelash when Victoria threw her soaked drawers at her.

They adjusted their clothes without a word. Their eyes met in the mirror, for but a second, before Victoria remembered her aversion to her reflection. She turned to the door while Callista grabbed her walking stick, and ignored Callista's gaze raking over her body as they exited. 

A well-dressed woman happened to be waiting at the end of the hallway. Her eyes settled on Victoria for a moment and lingered in awe, as most humans’ did whenever they beheld her after a seduction. But she ultimately hurried to Callista, eyes wide in shock. The woman must have truly been excited to see her, though the realisation didn't make Callista feel much better. 

“Callista Isadora!” the woman exclaimed, clutching Callista’s free hand. She failed to notice Callista’s wince at the firmness of her touch. “What a surprise! I didn't think this was your sort of...establishment. I haven’t seen you in _ages,_ darling, where have you been?” Her giggle grated as her eyes raked over Callista's scars and the cane, though Callista didn't sense revulsion, exactly. “Not holed up reading again, I hope? Or wasting yourself on the rabble to the point of forgetting your peers. Poor darling, whatever happened to you, you ought to have sent word. I could've helped...”

Callista mumbled a pre-prepared excuse for her long social absence. Callista glanced at their host - and almost lost her place in the sentence. Jealousy boiled and steamed in Victoria’s eyes; she didn’t say a word, merely focused on the woman’s thumb rubbing over Callista’s as if she meant to burn it with her glare.

The woman noticed, too. “Mistress Victoria!” she squealed. “It’s, uh, a pleasure to see you. Have you been entertaining dear Callista? I enjoyed tonight’s show ever so much.”

Victoria's glare intensified. The woman quickly said her goodbyes and scampered away. Victoria didn’t relax until she was no longer in sight; she continued to seethe, too incensed to respond to Callista’s obvious amusement.

“That was unnecessary,” Callista chided, lightly.

“I won’t have unauthorised interactions,” spat Victoria. “She should’ve paid to look in my direction.”

Chuckling, Callista clasped Victoria’s hand a final time, without reacting to the devilish heat. A small smile suggested that the human remembered where it had been minutes earlier.

“So…” Callista began.

“Yes.” Victoria hesitated. The pause was like hearing God yawn. Clearly, it wasn’t a question if they would meet (and _‘meet’)_ again, but when. But Victoria seemed to realise that dictating the terms might appear desperate, a transparent attempt to regain power, which would require admitting that she’d conceded any. Instead, she took a step back, releasing Callista’s hand with purposeful slowness.

“I’ll see you again,” said Callista.

Victoria arched a perfect eyebrow with an otherwise neutral expression, nodded once, then turned to stalk back down the hallway with a disgruntled flourish of her coat. Callista admired her figure until she disappeared back into her dressing room. Then she laughed and limped back to her wheeled chair, her cheeks pink and heart full of an indescribable lightness. 

**Author's Note:**

> According to Alexis Kennedy, the Affectionate Devil's name is Berthus.


End file.
